The Wooden Cross
by j.m.hxc. xo420
Summary: There is always good reason behind revenge...


Hey, everyone!

Here is a little oneshot! (And by little, I mean, little!) It was on my computer for a long time...so I finally finished it. Here tis.

Read and enjoy!

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Disclaimer:  
I don't own emotion, I rent. ((cross out the word emotion)) There ya go.

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Oscar Delancey stared hard at his mother's pale face in the moonlight. Her complextion resembled that of a ghost, her normally brilliant blue eyes were dull and lifeless.

He knew she was going to die. It was the cold, hard truth.

"Oscar..." Mrs. Delancey croaked. "I want you to have this." She handed him a small, brown wooden cross on a thinning leather cord. "Wear it always. For me."

Oscar slipped the worn cord around his neck and stared at the cross through teary eyes. "Mom, who did this to you!"

"Sullivan." Mrs. Delancey managed, grasping her stomach, trying to stop the blood that was so quickley gushing out. Oscar tried to keep the tears that threatened to pour down his face from showing themselves. He wrapped his mom in an embrace and hoped she wouldn't die.

He wasn't religious, but he didn't know what else to do at that moment. "God, if your really up there...Save my mom. She doesn't deserve this. Please don't let her die. Morris and me need her. We need her real bad. Please don't take her away from us. Please..." he begged to the dark, midnight sky.

"Sullivan." she repeated softly.

Sullivan. The name that was forever to be etched into Oscar's mind. The name that turned his heart cold as ice. The name that put a deep frown on his face every day.

"Sullivan who?" he asked.

There wasn't an answer. There would never be an answer.

Oscar let the tears flow down his face. He sobbed and hugged his mom close.

Her final resting place, a dark and dirty alleyway filled with rats and garbage. It wasn't right. It just wasn't. His mother did nothing to deserve this.

_Avenge her._ Something told him.

And that's just what he planned to do.

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Two years later, Oscar's plans for revenge at the Sullivan's were just as strong as the night his mother was murdered.

In these two years, he and his brother Morris had moved in with their Uncle Wiesel, a middle-aged man that lived in Manhatten. He worked selling newspapers to the newsboys. Oscar got a job sorting papers with Morris. Oscar put every dime he ever earned towards finding out who "Sullivan" was. And one fateful day, he found one.

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Oscar shoved a dime deep into his pocket. He switched to fidgeting with a knife that he had purchase a year ago. It had the initials M.D. engraved onto the hilt. M.D. was his mother. Mary Delancey. Her name brought a fresh, deep wave of pain over him. He blinked back tears. He missed her so...

But now was not the time to mourn. Now was the time to avenge his mother.

His brown eyes scanned the streets for someone. The boy with the cowboy hat. Sullivan.

"Jack! Hey, Jack!" a oatmeal skinned boy called to Francis Sullivan, aka Jack Kelly or Cowboy. Francis had taken a different name after he had escaped from the refuge.

_Francis Sullivan. The son of James Concord Sullivan, the man who murdered my mother. Lucky for him he's in jail for murdering his wife. If he wasn't, this blade would go through his heart. It's meant for him..._ Oscar's mind raced as he watched the oatmeal boy come ever closer to Oscar's target. _NO! _Oscar's mind screached. But it was too late. The oatmeal boy was taking Francis away.

"It's okay, it's okay," He told himself. _We'll play again tommorrow, Cowboy._ Oscar thought, re-sheathing the knife and watching the two friends walk away.

"You won't always have your friends around you to protect you. Your time is ever-coming. Beware, Sullivan, revenge is near."

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Well, this is a oneshot. It was generally written to explain why Oscar hates Jack so much. And to explain why he wears that brown cross. I am SUCH a detail whore. Thanks for that nickname, Kitty, darlin'. Hope I didthe ideasome justice. Please review. Flames aregenerouslyaccepted.

XxGinnyxX


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